


Where Are You?

by filthybonnet



Category: Hannibal Lecter (Hopkins Movies), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types, Hannibal Lecter Tetralogy - Thomas Harris
Genre: Angst, Daydreams, F/M, Fantasizing, longing without realizing it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-02 03:44:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8650129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/filthybonnet/pseuds/filthybonnet
Summary: Set between "The Silence of the Lambs" and "Hannibal," Dr. Lecter and Clarice Starling are worlds apart but find themselves in similar situations. They often get lost in thought, thoughts of one another, they seem to have no control over; thoughts that happen at the most inconvenient times or stir feelings they would rather not have. Will they face their emotions and come to terms?





	1. A Study In Taste

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ulfdalir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ulfdalir/gifts).



> A tumblr mutual of mine, wanted a very specific kind of Clannibal fic and asked me if I knew where to find any. They had read a couple but it didn't hit the sweet spot. I personally only knew of an AU that was vaguely close. I asked what exactly were they looking for and once they told me I got some ideas swirling in my mind. I told them I'd give it a go. This fic is that result. I hope everyone enjoys it, but I really hope it hits close to my tumblr mutual's sweet spot.

Special Agent Clarice Starling locked down her computer and got up from her desk to head to the restroom. She glanced at her empty coffee mug, _Should I fill it again? Maybe tea this time._ She hated these tedious computer crime assignments and drunk as much liquid as possible as an excuse to take bathroom breaks. 

She left the cup and headed to the restroom; however she took the long way back to her desk. She paused in front of a familiar sign in the hall: Behavioral Science Unit, its arrow pointing away from her desk, towards everything she wanted, worked for and didn’t get. _All because Krendler resented my solving the Buffalo Bill case right under his nose. All because I don’t play nice with him like some of the other women in the office._

_Speak of the devil._ Through the window of his office, Starling could see Paul Krendler was back; his feet up on his desk as he talked on the phone. She sighed and rolled her eyes as she sat back down at her computer. After a minute of security log-ins, she pulled up the FBI’s Top Ten Most Wanted. She skimmed over the information before staring intently at the picture; deep into the maroon eyes but the spark that was present in the dungeon was not there. 

“Where are you, Dr. Lecter?” Starling whispered to herself.

*******

Dr. Hannibal Lecter was Florence, Italy sitting comfortably in the Palazzo Capponi attic. He was enjoying a glass of Chianti thinking about Sogliato. _That vile man. That man standing in my way of fully securing the position of curator. What kind of unfortunate accident could befall him? As tempting as it is, too much of a risk._

His thoughts were interrupted by a ring of the phone. Dr. Lecter removed himself from his seat and answered the phone, “Dr. Fell.”

“Dr. Fell, it’s Ricci. Do you think you could disable the security system for a few minutes for an alley?”

“Clever choice of words,” The Good Doctor responded before hanging up. He buttoned his shirt back up as he walked over to the security system. In a few swift motions it was disarmed and he buzzed the door open.

Hannibal waited with the apartment door open and smiled at Professor Ricci, all his little white teeth showing, when the man approached. “A few minutes for an alley? Are you going to be blunt or do I have to enquire further?”

The man chuckled at Hannibal’s remark, “Dr. Fell, we both know Sogliato is no fan of yours. I have discovered tonight his grudge has personal reasons.”

“Personal?” Dr. Lecter closed the door. “May I interest you in a glass of Chianti?”

“Yes, thank you.”

As The Doctor went to pour the wine, Professor Ricci noticed a sketchbook sitting open on the table. A study of “The Birth of Venus” but curious the face was different. He turned the page; an original a pastoral scene: rolling hills a little cottage in the background. Sheep all in muzzles. The shepherdess instead of a staff holds a gun and a badge, and her face… _she looks just like woman who replaced Venus._ He turns the page, _here she is again!_ This time the work isn’t finished; there is her upper body, breasts exposed. Ricci doesn’t have time to close the sketch book before Hannibal is by his side.

“You are very talented, Dr. Fell,” Professor Ricci says, taking the glass of wine. 

Hannibal looked down at his unfinished piece. _She is an ocean away and has no bearing on my life now…and yet…some our stars are the same. I let that little Starling change me._

“She’s beautiful. So who is she? An old flame? A current obsession?” There was a tone of mockery in Ricci’s voice.

Hannibal slammed the sketchbook shut. “I believe you had something to tell me about Sogliato, ” the metallic rasp in his voice growled. 

*******

Dr. Lecter left his attic apartment early; he enjoyed walking Florence, taking in the sights, the sounds, the smells. Art and life was all around as he headed towards a meeting at the Palazzo Vecchio; he always liked being early that way his adversaries could not hold that against him as he fought for the position. 

He’d left a few minutes earlier than usual this morning and was glad, the aroma of espresso was particularly strong this morning coming from the one shop he always passed by. His nostrils flared and he decided to indulge. The Doctor sat with his espresso and biscotti at a little table outside on the sidewalk, people watching, his maroon eyes shielded from them and the light by his sunglasses. However his eyes were not immune from catching a shop window across the street. The shop girl was in the process of setting up a new display: she adjusted a fine Italian black leather purse hanging on a white disembodied mannequin hand that was on the wall. He swirled the last bit of his biscotti in his drink, ate it, and downed the hot liquid before wiping his lip prints and finger prints from the glass with a napkin. 

Having balled the napkin up and shoved it into his pocket, Dr. Lecter felt compelled, driven, to cross the street and admire the shop girl’s work. Past his reflection, on various levels of stands sat pairs of fine Italian leather pumps; one pair matched the purse perfectly. _Chilton was correct about her ankles. And these shoes, she’d looked good in them, with that matching purse._

He closed his eyes: Special Agent Clarice M. Starling, in these black pumps. He raises his eyes up her body and sees a black pencil skirt hemline right above the knees, still work appropriate but hugged her hips, a crisp white button up blouse, the top tucked in the first few buttons undone allowing just a peak of cleavage, that purse hanging on her shoulder. _Yes, yes the shoes caught up to the bag; a complete study in taste._

A car horn sounded, startling Dr. Lecter back to the moment. _What is this, an elevated heartbeat?_ He looked down at his watch, if he kept up a fast walk he could still make it there before Sogliato.


	2. Haunted

Hannibal Lecter sat his pencil down and looked down at his sketchbook; the incomplete portrait complete. He redid parts of it, covering up one breast, extending down into a robe. He added a halo and a lamb suckling at the exposed breast. The Good Doctor smiled. _How many more lambs have you saved My Little Starling?_

*******

Special Agent Clarice Starling pulled up the FBI’s Top Ten Most Wanted. She scrolled down to his picture and information by memory; knowing exactly when to stop. She rested her elbow on her desk and cradled her chin in her hand. The spark was there in his eyes in the photo, it had to be, just to mock all those who would look at it. But it did not mock Clarice; it sent a chill down her spine. There had been no more nightmares of crying lambs; just dreams filled with his voice. That distinct metallic rasp haunting…

“Hey Starling!”

She startled, her elbow slipping, her body shaking before spinning around in her chair, “Damn it, Brigham! Don’t sneak up on people like that! Especially people you know who are good with a gun.”

John Brigham gave Clarice a bright smile that quickly turned to a frown upon seeing her screen, “What’s with that? Please don’t tell me you blame yourself for his escape.”

She looked back at her screen, Hannibal’s maroon eyes piercing her. She turned back to Brigham, slightly flushed. “No, I just like to check and see if there are any updates. The man is dangerous and clever; I know that better than anyone.”

He took a step closer and leaned in, “You didn’t hear this from me, but they are taking Lecter off the Top Ten.”

“Why would they do that?”

“Bigger fish to fry. Yeah he’s dangerous and clever but it’s been five years and no new leads.”

Clarice sighed and closed the Top Ten list. She then turned her attention back to Brigham, he seemed a little off today, not his usual confident self. “So what do I owe the pleasure? Is my boss actually going to loan me out again so fast?”

Brigham leaned against Clarice’s desk. He knew she’d been single for a few years, having ended things with “Moth Man” as he affectionately called her most recent ex, but he’d hesitated making a move; he didn’t want Clarice to resent him. He took a deep breath, “Do you have any plans this weekend, Clarice?”

Starling’s eyes widened a little at his using her first name. However she smiled, “Not yet why?”

“Would you be interested in going out for dinner?”

*******

Dinner was over and the night caps John Brigham invited her up to his apartment for were sitting neglected on his coffee table. Clarice Starling straddled John’s lap, her dress riding up her thighs. His lips were on hers passionately as she pushed his unbuttoned shirt open further. She pulled away and ran her fingers across his tattoo and smiled, “You know Ardelia and I used to strain to see this under your shirt when we were in the academy,” she said slightly breathless. “We’d wonder what it was, then giggle like school girls.”

John smiled at her, “Well now you can tell her you’ve touched it. Scratch it up, Clarice.” His lips were back on hers, his hands on her waist. He slowly, moved them up inching closer to the dress’s zipper’s pull.

_Is this what you really want, Clarice?_

She stopped moving. Dr. Lecter’s metallic rasp in her mind right now of all times!

**_Yes!_ **

_Are you sure, Clarice? Do you really want to fuck your daddy?_

**_John is not my father._ **

_No, but you see too much of your dear papa in him to really want to fuck him. You respect him too much, Clarice. He stands for honor, for justice…_

**_I can love a man romantically who possesses those qualities as well._ **

_No you cannot, Clarice. You will hold them in too high of regard. Listen to your body, Clarice. Does his eyes on you make you feel the way mine do? Give you that chill down your spine you just cannot shake? The one you don’t want but don’t want to go away._

Starling pulled her hands and mouth away from Brigham. She blinked for a few seconds, feeling she was on the verge of tears.

“Is everything okay?” John lifted his hand from her side. “I have protection if that’s what you’re worried about. Or am I moving too fast?”

Clarice crawled off his lap, found her shoes and put them on, “It’s me, John. I…I can’t do this.” She stood and smoothed her dress down. She turned and looked at Brigham, who looked despondent on the couch. “It’s just that I’ve gotten to know you way too well over these past couple of years and…and…” A tear fell down her cheek.

He stood and smiled sadly as he wiped the tear away, “You don’t feel romantically for me, you feel familiarly for me”

She nodded, “Thank you for understanding. I’ll understand if you don’t want to continue our friendship or work relationship.”

“No, no, Clarice, not at all. Yes, give me a few days to sulk but I’m not going throw away years of friendship over a failed date. I gave it a shot, that’s all I could do. Now let me fix my clothes and I’ll drive you home.”

“Actually, I’ll take a cab. It’ll be a little easier on us both.”

*******  
Clarice Starling entered her side of the duplex and went straight to her bedroom. She didn’t want to have to deal Ardelia’s wondering why she was home. Ardelia was expecting Clarice to do a walk of shame in the morning and then spill every detail of what **THE** John Brigham was like in bed; excited that one of them got to fuck him. _Boy is she going to be disappointed._

She kicked her shoes off and dropped her good bag on her bed before walking over to her night stand. She pulled the drawer open and stuck her fingers right to the bottom and pulled out a folded piece of paper. Nobody knew she made a photocopy before turning the original in, she didn’t even know why she made a copy. She unfolded it and read it and then read it again, always lingering on the last line.

_Some of our stars are the same._

“Where are you, Dr. Lecter?” she whispered.


	3. Manifest, She

_She smiled at him, her plate and wine glass empty, “My compliments to the chef.” She took his hand into hers, caressing it gently with her thumb. “So how about showing our guests the door so we can get to dessert?”_

_“What do you mean, I made panna cotta for dessert and I know our guests will want some.”_

_She pushed her chair out and walked over to him leaning over so her breasts almost fell out of her dress and her lips were on his ear, “No, Hannibal Lecter, **dessert…** ”_

“My compliments to the chef, Dr. Fell,” Mrs. Ricci said, her shrill voice echoing in the attic apartment. “You are a man of many talents.”

Dr. Lecter opened his eyes his, flustered, his vision of his third dinner guest gone. He smiled at Mrs. Ricci, he could tell she was a woman who did not get out much anymore and that their marriage was now one of habit.

“As is your husband. He has been rather clever in helping me secure the curator position.”

“That’s just playing politics,” Professor Ricci said waving his hand. “You, are a scholar, a cook and an artist. Show my wife your drawings. She would love them.”

Mrs. Ricci perked up, “You draw, Dr. Fell?”

“I do.”

“Oh he does. There’s this one specific woman he draws, a fine specimen of the female sex, but he won’t tell me who she is.”

“Perhaps she’s a model and if she is you can go take classes if you like looking at her so damn much,” Mrs. Ricci snapped.

 _Why are you ashamed to show your art of me?_ Her voice was back, that West Virginia accent thick. _Is it because other people seeing it is a way of admitting you’ve being thinking of my body. Am I right, Doctor? You found my mind fascinating which led to my body being attractive. And now you have to ask why? You'd finally have to turn that high powered perception on yourself._

Hannibal stood, “I really do not want to do this but it is getting late and I do need to be at work in the morning. And I have a whole kitchen to clean. Would you mind if I walked you out?”

*******

Clarice Starling poured coffee into her mug and was sitting the pot back when she heard footsteps behind her. She turned to see John Brigham, “So what do I own the pleasure this morning?”

“Your boss. Hurry and get the coffee done we have a lot of tactical planning and I want you to lead.”

“Me lead?” She grabbed a pack of sugar and poured it into the cup, “What the Hell do you have up your sleeve, Brigham?”

“A drug bust of somebody you have experience with, this is coming down from up high. It’s going to get you out from behind the desk and we always make a good team.”

Starling smiled at Brigham, “That we do.” She wrapped her fingers around the mug’s handle. “Where are we meeting?”

*******

Dr. Hannibal Lecter walked by the news and magazine kiosk, he never usually stopped; Professor Ricci always gave him his newspaper when he was done. However, today The Good Doctor did a double take as he walked by. Seventy-two-point Railroad Gothic caught his eye: **“DEATH ANGEL: CLARICE STARLING, THE FBI’S KILLING MACHINE.”**

He felt his heart skip a beat, her name here in bold for the whole world to read. _Death angel? Killing machine?_ He dug cash out of his pocket, handed to the man and grabbed a copy of The American National Tattler. He gasped as he pulled it down; under the headline was a picture of Special Agent Clarice Starling, the first time he had seen her in seven years.

The Doctor’s hands shaking, he walked over to the café, ordered an espresso and sat down. She was more beautiful than he remembered, her hair longer. Yes she looked older, but she wore it with grace, it suited her. He ran his fingers over the picture, caressing it, “What have they done to you, my little Starling?” 

He drank his espresso as he read the article. He closed his eyes and shook his head. _This will not do. My brave Clarice must not be defeated._ He wiped down his cup, folded up his paper and stuck it into his inner coat pocket. A stop by the stationary store was due on his way home tonight.


End file.
